Worth Fighting For
by scangel72
Summary: Logan comes home to see how things stand with Marie, but life as an X-man has suddenly taken its toll on her. Can he help bring her back in more ways than one?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimers: All these characters belong to Marvel, not me. I just wanted to bring them out to play! A/N: Okay, I'm a huge fan of X-men (watched the original cartoons back in the day), but I'm mainly basing my ideas on the movies. I haven't been able to follow Evo too much. It scares my kids. ;) Anyway, it's fairly obvious that this is an AU set after X-2. I'd really appreciate reviews to see if this is intriguing enough to continue! Oh yeah, again, stating the obvious, this is definitely going to be a Logan/Marie fic, but with quite a bit of angst thrown in. And forgive me if some of my themes are already well done in fanfics. *blush* I can't help it. I've had this story swirling around my head for ages and it's just screaming to be written, regardless. Hope it's enjoyable!  
  
The roar of the engine seemed misplaced in the misty, early morning sunlight streaming through trees. The country lane curved through lush hills, emerald with the fullness of summer. The man on the back of the massive motorcycle smiled unconsciously, his normally grim, scowling features relaxed in anticipation of coming home again. Granted, he would never voluntarily admit those feelings to another living soul, but in the silence of his own thoughts, he was free to admit it. It had been four years since Professor Xavier had located Jean Grey, alive and well, but very much taken over by an entity called the Phoenix. Four years since the ravaging battles to reclaim the woman so loved by so many. Four years since he'd set foot in Westchester for more than a few days at a time. Four years of wandering, looking for his past, fighting his demons and coming to terms with his heart.  
  
A lot had changed in four years, Logan thought to himself, knowing the mansion would appear from behind the hills in a few moments. Four years ago, despite knowing Jean had chosen Scott, he had wondered at the possibilities when it was revealed that Jean was indeed alive. But after all that had been done to save Jean, he'd realized that the relationship between Scott and Jean wasn't something to be tampered with. A love and devotion like that was so rare as to be more myth than reality and he'd personally kill any sonofabitch who tried to mess with it. Of course, a long talk with Charles Xavier helped his perspective as well. After that, he finally realized that Jean was the classic unattainable female that every guy wants. It still kind of pissed him off that he'd fallen into the classic trap, but hey, he was a man and didn't always think with his brain, right? The problem with Jean was that she was not only the classic hot, popular girl, but damnit, she was kind, too. Most times, a guy didn't find that kind of girl without a mean streak a mile wide. That was what really drew him in like a fly to honey. But in the end, it never would have worked. For all her virtues, Jean was a fixer and he couldn't have lived with that for very long. She would have-in her gentle, loving way-tried to turn him into a kinder, gentler version of the Wolverine and that would have eventually brought out the worst in him. Logan smiled to himself and he told himself he was an ornery sonofabitch. Truth be told, he was proud of that fact.  
  
The last curve before the mansion appeared around the bend was suddenly upon him and he let go of the throttle, allowing the bike to stop. His feet slowly lowered down to the cobblestone drive, balancing the powerful machine between his legs. So, this was it. He sighed and let his mind turn down the road it had been struggling towards for more years than he cared to remember. Marie. Rogue. He reached up and absently rubbed the back of his head. That was really the kernel of that long ago talk with Charles. The professor had pointed out that in truth, his pursuit of Jean had been more about running away from Marie that truly wanting Jean. He'd resisted the idea pretty violently to begin with, but the longer he mulled it over, the more he realized the truth. Christ, after all, Marie had been a baby when they'd met in that hole in the wall bar. He had a lot of sins to his name, but being a child molester wasn't one of them. He'd had to give her time to grow up and know herself, both for her own sake and his. But now.  
  
Logan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck where his dog tags used to lay. "Shit," he muttered, part of him wanting to turn and run away again as fast as he could. But the larger part of him was compelled to stay and see the lay of the land. Maybe she'd hooked up with someone. Or maybe she'd tell him to get the hell away from her. He growled and fired up the bike again. He knew he was playing games with himself. If Marie had settled in with some guy, Charles would have told him. The professor simply wouldn't let him walk into that kind of situation blind.  
  
With the kind of steely determination he was known for, Logan slowly headed up the drive. He didn't have a plan and didn't know how things were going to play out-which scared the shit out of him-but he had to run the gauntlet anyway. He pulled up in front of the mansion and cut the engine, taking a slow, deep breath of the summer morning air. It was then that the scent hit him and he froze. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. The scent hung in the air like the stench left after a fire. Heavy and thick and almost palpable. He left the bike where it was and strode up to the front door, banging in without a sideways glance at the youngsters huddled together in the front room. His heart rate increased and somewhere in the back of him mind, warning bells started to scream at him that whatever was happening was as bad as it could get.  
  
It was as he was punching in the code to the lower level that a familiar voice slipped into his mind with a sense of relief that terrified him. **Logan. ** the tired, weary, anxious voice of Charles Xavier intoned, **Your timing is quite amazing. We have a situation and I'm afraid you're going to be needed even more than we can imagine.**  
  
With a deadly soft hiss, adamantium claws shot out and ripped through the wall before the secret doorway could slide aside. 


	2. Contemplation and Complications

Disclaimers: All the usual A/N: Okay, I couldn't help going ahead with the next chapter. If anyone out there is interested, I could definitely use a beta reader! I tend to ramble, among other things, and sometimes get confusing with my many 'rabbit trails'. :D As always, please R&R. Feedback is definitely welcome!  
  
Contemplation and Complications  
  
It had been four years since she'd seem him for more than a passing hello in the hallways or a quick ruffle of her hair with a, "Heya, kid," after a meal. Rogue sighed as she pulled the zipper up on her uniform, trying not to think about it. She knew without a doubt that he purposefully avoided her and she was fairly certain she knew why, too. But then, truthfully, while his attitude and distance had been frustrating, it had been good for her, too. Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she pulled on her boots and smiled wryly, letting the memories flood her mind.  
  
She'd been sixteen when she first met Logan and infatuated beyond belief from the very beginning. It was embarrassing to remember, even in private. Of course, she hadn't exactly been subtle in her puppy love, either, so pretty much everyone around at the time was aware of her feelings. Rogue stood and walked over to the dresser to pull her hair back in a ponytail. "Where is all this coming from?" she murmured to her reflection. Thoughts of Logan had been plaguing her for the last few days, like they hadn't for ages. Not to say she didn't think of him often; wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he was safe, but still, things had been different lately.  
  
She glanced at the clock, shocked to see she was early for once. Besides, this wasn't a 'real' mission, today, but a field training exercise. Regardless, she decided to take a few moments for the meditation the Professor had taught her as she was learning to control her powers. Lying back on the bed, her feet dangling just above the floor, she closed her eyes, started slow, deep breaths and attempted to empty her mind. After a minute, her composed features twitched and she tried to settle herself again. Eventually the deep breathing was replaced by a groan and a softly muttered curse. With that, she gave in to where her mind really wanted to go. Logan. The Wolverine.  
  
A smile stretched Rogue's pert features as she allowed herself a little mental trip down memory lane. The very things about Logan that put most people off were the things that had always drawn her to him. His fierceness and abrasive personality simply endeared him to her. Of course, the fact that he'd saved her life nearly at the cost of his own didn't hurt her perspective, either. He'd taken care of her in other ways, too. Even the way he kept his distance. She understood that he didn't particularly like the idea of being drawn to a teenager and she could accept that, but from the first, they'd had a connection that she couldn't put into words if her life depended on it. It was there, though. Almost tangible at times.  
  
And now she was undeniably grown up. She sighed and opened her eyes, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. There was a part of her that she could never quite silence that insisted she and Logan were the other halves of each other. In her wilder flights of fancy in years past, she'd likened their potential connection to what Scott and Jean had. She snorted softly, lifting a hand to absently run through her hair. The difference was that Scott didn't run from Jean as if someone had set him on fire. Jean also had the luxury of the man she loved being around for more than a handful of days each year.  
  
"And that's why, my dear," Rogue told herself as she sat up, "you long ago decided not to sit around and pine over the man." She stared down at her hands, now bare of the gloves that used to be her trademark before Xavier trained her to control her power. When that day had come, oh, how she'd hoped Logan would be around, but all she had had was the Logan rattling around in her head with the rest of what she called her 'captives'. And that was the day she knew she had to put together an adult life that didn't hinge on hoping and praying Logan would come for her. She'd never totally given up hope, but she'd buried that desire deep so that it didn't become the centerpiece of her life.  
  
Since then, she'd made a good life for herself. Rogue the rebellious teenager had developed into Rogue, a respected member of the X-Men, a mentor to youngsters at the academy like she herself had once been, and a desired, sought after young woman. Jean and Ro had taken her in hand and tamed her brashness into gentility and her acerbic demeanor into such sweetness that many who didn't know her well missed the steel under the magnolia surface. But the Rogue that had been was still there, without a doubt. She'd just learned a lot of lessons over the years about what worked with certain people and not with others.  
  
She'd also learned lessons about herself as a mutant. Rogue looked up into the mirror and wondered if she'd look different to Logan. If somehow he'd know. Once she'd become a full member of the team of X-Men, it became inevitable that she'd use her power in combat. What no one had realized is that her 'abilities' extended to permanently imprinting the powers of other mutants if she held on long enough. Unfortunately in some circumstances, 'long enough' meant bringing the other mutant to a near-death state. But due to that little 'quirk', her powers were now such that made her something of a legend even within the mutant community.  
  
"Well, so much for gathering my thoughts and clearing my mind," she drawled out loud to herself just as a discreet tone sounded in her suite. It was time for her to make her way down to the Blackbird. Just as well, she thought, letting go of her jumbled musings. She stopped at the window and looked out at the late afternoon sun shining over the manicured lawns. "Wherever you are, Logan, I hope you're finding what you're looking for," she murmured, touching her fingers to the pane as if she could touch the man in question. "I don't know why you're in my head today, but I hope." she trailed off, unwilling to put what she hoped into words. Other than wishing him well, she honestly didn't know. With a rueful shake of her head, she grabbed her gear and headed out of the room. Duty called. She could examine the state of her life and her heart another day.  
  
It was supposed to have been a very run of the mill training exercise. Granted, Scott's training exercises were never mundane, but more often challenging to the point of being too real. Still, from the moment they touched down in the clearing, Rogue's nerves were jangling enough to make her jittery. She'd glanced around at the other team members, trying to gauge their reactions to the surroundings, but everyone else seemed perfectly at ease, if on alert.  
  
They'd hiked a couple of hours in the darkness before they reached the appointed spot. Scott was just getting ready to give instructions when all hell broke loose from the darkness, shocking the team with the ferocity of the attack. At first Rogue-as well as many of the others-thought this was a new ploy on Scott's part to intensify the training, but it soon became obvious that this was mortal combat. The attackers seemed to flow out of the dense forest in alarming numbers, but the team was able to hold their own. At first. The situation quickly became dire, though, simply based on numbers. With each of the ten X-Men holding off five or six attackers, their abilities were stretched to the limit. Even Rogue, having mastered her newer flight ability was struggling to hold off the horde moving closer and closer around her. Just as she was about to level a mutant who kept the grass at her feet creeping up her legs like ropes of steel, a short, sharp scream brought her around just in time to see Ororo plummet from the sky. The wind and lightning the weather goddess had been flinging suddenly stopped and the momentary stillness in the glade became deafening. In that instant, Rogue felt something incredibly hard slam into the back of her head. The last thing she saw as she faded into unconsciousness was Jean on her knees, shaking, as she attempted to keep Ororo's body from hitting the ground with fatal intensity. 


	3. Panic

Panic  
  
Logan stormed down the hall towards Cerebro, his claws extended and ready to rip through the wall if necessary. He knew that Charles was in there. The scent of anxiety was rolling off the man in near palpable waves, which only served to heighten Logan's panic. Never before had he sensed this kind of concern-fear-from the leader of the X-Men.  
  
His boots made a sort of ringing noise as they pounded against the floor. The kind of ringing that footsteps in an otherwise empty room cause. That made him pause. Empty? Yes. Something told him that the place was unnaturally empty of the usual component of the team. Jean, Slim, Ro, Hank. they weren't here. He knew it in his bones. His mind shied away from who else didn't seem to be present in the mansion.  
  
"Just a mission," he muttered to himself under his breath. "Just a goddamn mission." But he knew that his senses wouldn't be screaming at him like this if there weren't something terribly wrong.  
  
The doors to Cerebro slid open silently, revealing Professor Xavier connected to the unit with the silver helmet. "What the hell is goin' on." Logan began before a hand shot up and silenced him with a simple gesture. Unhappy not to have immediate information, but understanding the Professor needed a moment of quiet; Logan subsided and settled on standing rigidly behind Xavier's wheelchair.  
  
After a few moments of agonizing silence, Xavier pulled the helmet from his head and tiredly placed it back on the base. "They're almost home," he murmured softly, sounding and looking as if he'd aged a decade in the space of moments. He took a deep breath and looked at the formidable force known as Wolverine to most and Logan to a special few.  
  
"Yes, they were on a mission, but it was supposed to be a simple training exercise," the Professor sighed, unconsciously lifting his hand and rubbing the back of his head where a psionic headache was beginning to bloom. Before he could say more, Logan cut him off.  
  
"Supposed to be? What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he demanded harshly.  
  
Charles gave the agitated man a long, assessing look. "It means that the team was ambushed at the training site." He took a deep breath and continued. "I have no idea how the information leaked out, but the team was overwhelmed by sheer numbers." Logan's body seemed to stiffen, as if the adamantium lacing his bones hardened even more. "None of the mutants that attacked were recognizable to the team. except for one."  
  
The Professor waited, watching the almost visible shift as Logan became the Wolverine. "Sabertooth," he snarled, needing no confirmation. Charles simply nodded. "Bastard," Wolverine growled, flexing his fists with claws still extended. "Sonofabitch has been tryin' to draw me out for months now."  
  
Silence reigned for long moments as Xavier let Wolverine get himself under control. It took maybe a count of thirty before he looked down at the man in the wheelchair, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who and how bad?" he managed to grind out, ready to howl at the 'wrong' answer.  
  
Charles nodded slowly, as if only awaiting the verbalization of the question. "Scott, Jean, Ororo, Hank, Bobby, John and." he hesitated, anticipating the coming explosion from the furious man standing in front of him now, ".Rogue." Before the Wolverine could howl, Xavier continued. "All are injured, but Jean and Hank are the most serious. From what Scott tells me, Jean has nearly scorched her mind and Hank." again he paused, but unconsciously this time, ".has taken several serious wounds in trying to keep the attackers from taking Rogue."  
  
The tension in the room suddenly became palpable, almost shimmering in intensity. Logan suppressed the animal for long enough to ask quietly, "Trying?" Silence. "Charles, where the fuck is Rogue?" The quietness of the tone was chilling.  
  
Xavier bowed his head for a moment before lifting his eyes and meeting the anguished gaze of the man standing before him. "They don't know, Logan. Several of the team saw her go down in the fight, but no one could get through to rescue her before she was carried off. She is alive, but." he shook his head. "Something is blocking me from contacting her. She's either unconscious or drugged." He stopped, staring at a rage he'd never seen before. "Scott and the team have searched for her for almost two days with no sign."  
  
An unearthly snarling emanated from a man who'd let the animal take over. Wolverine whirled to put this place behind him and find the one everything in him cried out for, but he was stopped before he could take a step.  
  
"Logan," Charles murmured softly, knowing that would have more effect than a shout. "Logan, wait." He paused, giving the man a chance to slowly turn, as if he were forcing himself. "At least talk to Scott before you go. He can give you the few leads we have." In that exact instant, a low, bass rumble indicated the Blackbird was coming to rest in its hangar. "We won't let her go without a fight."  
  
"I'm not letting her go, period," came the growled reply as Logan turned and stalked down the tunnel.  
  
Scott was carrying Jean down to the medlab despite his own injuries when Logan intercepted him. His eyes widened behind his visor and his step momentarily faltered.  
  
"Logan? What the hell.?" he questioned incredulously, holding Jean closer as she stirred and moaned softly in his arms.  
  
"Tell me everything," Logan growled, his stance aggressive and angry. "Since you couldn't be bothered to bring her home, I'm going to. You fucker."  
  
Scott's nostrils flared as his jaw visibly clenched. "Look, I know you're upset, Logan, but don't think we didn't do everything we could to find her. And we're going back, but Jean and Hank-"  
  
Deadly silver claws were suddenly inches from Scott's jugular. "Don't give me that bullshit-" Wolverine began, but a weak motion from Jean stopped him. She opened pain-filled eyes as she reached out and put a hand on his chest.  
  
"Logan, stop," she murmured, her voice shaking and strained. "Believe me when I say we share your fear, but starting a war with Scott here certainly won't help Rogue. We have to pull together to find her, not splinter apart." Those few words seemed to exhaust her and she slumped against Scott's chest, unconscious.  
  
"Damnit to hell, Logan," Scott bit out, stepping back, then around the enraged Wolverine. "I want Rogue back as badly as anyone, but I'm not going to sacrifice Jean and Hank. They need medical attention, then we search." His tone brooked no argument-not that Logan cared. It was the looks of sympathy from the rest of the team standing around in tattered uniforms that held him at bay, if only for a moment. Besides, whatever issues he had with Scott, Logan knew deep down that the man cared for Rogue as if she were his sister and he wouldn't leave her behind without a serious threat forcing his hand. His claws retracted with a deadly *snikt* and he turned to follow the ragged group to the medlab. All the while, though, his mind raced with how Sabertooth would use Rogue to draw him out. None of the pictures were very pretty. 


	4. Search and Discovery

Search and Discovery  
  
It had been two days since Scott and the remainder of the team limped back into Westchester. Hank's injuries, while nasty looking, hadn't been life- threatening. He was on the mend and already frustrated at being held back from the search for Rogue. Jean was another story. She was already recovered physically, but her mind had been seriously scorched by the intensity of both her telepathic and telekinetic outputs. The professor had spent the better part of the two days coaxing Jean's mind back into a state of true consciousness, but even so, the road to recovery would not be a short or easy one.  
  
Logan, Scott and Bobby, on the other hand, had spent the past forty-eight hours with little to no sleep and only the food forcefully pushed on them by those at the school. Their every moment had been consumed with searching for Rogue, but to everyone's horror, there was no trace of her. Even the mental sense of her Xavier had been able to locate had faded to the barest wisp. Although he had not voiced the thought, he was no longer sure Rogue was even alive.  
  
Scott and Bobby, as intense as could be in their search, were taken aback by Logan's simmering rage. Or make that Wolverine. They were both intensely aware of the differences between the man and the animal. And the animal had taken over. More than once, Scott had had to step in to keep Wolverine from killing someone who had nothing to tell. It was only the situation at hand that kept Scott from booting Logan's ass from the team and talking to Charles about having him barred from the school. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if it were Jean that were missing-taken by his worst enemy-he would go to any length to get her back, even if that included cold blooded murder. While Scott had never mentioned it to Logan, he was still aware of that 'something' between him and Rogue and realized that it was more than 'big brother' protectiveness that drove the man. He wondered-assuming they found Rogue alive-how Logan would react to the changes in her. As far as Scott knew, Charles hadn't filled him in on the 'additions' to her mutation over the last few years. Rogue as a mature young woman was very, very different from the girl Logan had left behind four years ago.  
  
It was early morning of the third day Rogue was missing when a commotion was stirred within the school. As if he owned the place, Magneto-helmet under his arm--strolled in and headed for Xavier's office.  
  
{Good morning, Erik}, came the cultured tones of Charles' voice moments before Magneto could open the door.  
  
Erik smiled a bit and waited to reply until he was standing face to face with the man who had been his best friend and his arch enemy.  
  
"Charles," he drawled, sinking elegantly into a nearby wingchair. "I decided it would be prudent to come now and avow my innocence in the loss of your team member." He studied neatly clipped nails for a moment before glancing up with a sardonic smile. "I assumed I would be your first suspect, given our prior history. Yours and mine as well as mine and the girl's."  
  
Professor Xavier leaned back in his wheelchair and steepled his fingers together, his own expression wry. "True, but I quickly discounted the idea. From the way Scott described the attack, I knew it wasn't your style."  
  
Magneto arched a brow and nodded indolently in acknowledgement. "You know me well, Charles."  
  
Silence reigned for several long moments before Xavier let his hands drop and rest on the desk. "My people are fairly certain it was one of your team, though," he said with a certain lightness, despite his fears.  
  
"Mmmm," Magneto replied, standing and turning towards a window overlooking the early morning sunlight streaming across the lawn. "So I had heard." He sighed and turned after a moment. "I have considered having him put down like the rabid animal he is, but then again, he can be an effective tool. Effective enough to keep him alive." There was no sense of apology in his voice, only a statement of fact. "You know how that is, Charles, don't you?" he drawled with a hint of derision. "You have an animal of your own on the leash."  
  
Xavier remained silent. Waiting. The differences between Logan and Sabertooth were too numerous to name and he wasn't going to waste time with a useless argument about the humanity of the Wolverine. His patience was rewarded after another few moments of quiet. "I was away on a bit of business," Magneto murmured, a slight smirk to his expression, knowing his 'business' was always of interest to Charles Xavier. "When I returned yesterday, I was informed of the incident. And of the disappearance of several items." He slipped a piece of paper from behind his cape and onto the desk between the two men. "If you find her alive, these are the drugs missing from my lab and likely in her system. Crude, but that's not surprising given Sabertooth's mentality." He hesitated, as if struggling with saying something more before finally giving in.  
  
"There was another item though, that makes me think it is not his intention to kill her. At least not right away." Another pause, then, "My team liberated a military installation several months ago. Experimentation, among other things," he said curtly, not needing to paint a picture. Both men were well aware of what lengths some humans would go to to end the 'mutant threat'. "We found a prototype for a solid metal band to be worn around the neck that would inhibit the mutation. It wasn't perfected, though. According to the notes we found, it was more often than not lethal when worn for more than a short time." He sighed again, shaking his head. "My people were still working on the makeup of the collar when it was taken. I doubt Sabertooth was aware of the implications. I also can't imagine him being able to keep the girl down without it."  
  
The implied result hung in the air between the two men. A heavy silence reigned as both contemplated how they'd ended up on opposite sides, both totally convinced of the rightness of their missions.  
  
Magneto replaced the helmet back on his head. "If I hear of anything useful, I will let you know."  
  
"Thank you, Erik," Charles intoned softly, nodding his head. He knew there was honor yet left in his old friend to bring him under these circumstances.  
  
And so the brief truce between the two leaders of the mutant world was over as quickly as it began.  
  
"Professor! Professor!" came the urgent call as Xavier sat with Logan, Scott, Hank and Ororo in the war room later that afternoon, going over what they knew and where to search next.  
  
Xavier blinked, sensing a feeling of unease from the several people even as the actual voice reached his ears. A second later, Bobby burst into the room, earning glares from Scott and Logan as he skidded to a stop. Both men were looking worn to the point of exhaustion, but nothing less than a complete collapse would stop their earch. Days of no sleep, little food and intense searching had left their mark: overgrown beards, gaunt faces and pale skin marked both of them.  
  
"What is it, Robert?" Charles asked tiredly, aware that the young X-Man wouldn't have interrupted them without a good cause. Aside from now being a full-fledged member of the team and aware of the protocols, he was extremely close to Rogue and would never hinder the search for her. 'Iceman', as he was called by the team, was out of breath, but more alarming, completely drained of color. He looked as if he'd been frozen from the inside out by the ice he created.  
  
Bobby took a shuddering breath, his eyes slipping away from Scott and Logan. "Professor," he began, then hesitated, not wanting to deliver the news he had. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and then barged on. "Professor, there was a box delivered just now-"he started, getting no further before a crash startled them all. The remains of a heavy chair slid down the wall in splinters as the Wolverine stood.  
  
"Listen you little puke," he growled, his hands flexing as if he were about to free the adamantium claws held within, "in case you haven't noticed, we've got a few more important things going on other than deliveries." He took a menacing step towards the younger man before an intense look from Xavier stopped him in his tracks.  
  
Charles gave Logan a long, lingering look before turning his attention back to Bobby. He nodded, and Bobby-still looking at Logan warily-continued. "Um, the box. We, ah, um," he stammered, flustered by the Wolverine unlike he'd ever been before. It was the news he had to tell that was making him as awkward as a schoolboy again. "God, there's no good way to say this." He took a deep breath and simply stated it. "We scanned it like we do everything that comes in. It's a coffin, Professor. And there's someone inside." 


	5. Revelations

A/N: Okay, I admit I usually want to scream when I read stuff like this, but I'm about to switch tenses. Yeah, yeah, I'm anal about stuff like that. I know a lot of people don't care. But since I do, I wanted the disclaimer first. This chapter just begged to be written in first person as opposed to the previous narrative chapters. I'll probably switch back and forth as the story goes along. Oh, and I'm taking a little bit of liberty with Xavier's telepathy, too. At least I think I am. ;) I just wanted to add that to keep any purists from freaking out on me. :D  
  
Also, please forgive the problems I'm having in formatting. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm doing wrong so that there are large spaces or lines of asterisk between different sections of a chapter. Hopefully I'll get it together soon. In the meantime, please R&R! As most of us do, I live for reviews!!!!  
  
Revelations  
  
Logan:  
  
Time seemed to stop at the Iceman's words. In fact, for that heart-stoppin' moment, I thought he'd frozen me for some dipshit reason. It was actually kind of a surreal moment, the way part of my brain seemed to detach itself from reality and function when the rest of me was frozen. Did I do somethin' I didn't realize? Lookin' around the room, I saw dawning looks of horror on the faces around me. In fact, Slim looked like he was going to toss up the coffee he'd just scarfed. In the twisted reality of the moment, it was almost funny.  
  
And then reality set in like a bitch. It was like a paused movie where instead of hittin' play, someone hits the fast forward button. Stopped to super speed. The weird thing was that I felt still. Utterly still inside. I would have thought that I'd tear the room up, howl, anything, but I was utterly fuckin' calm. Still frozen inside from my own fear, but my brain was altogether and workin' again. I knew without a doubt who was in the coffin. It was just like that bastard to send her home like that. What kept my heart from beatin' was not knowing if she were dead or alive. I could see him playin' the game either way. With animals, the worst thing one alpha could do to another is mark or kill his rival's mate. And don't ever mistake that I ain't an animal at heart. But somehow that fucker knew what Marie did-does-mean to me and upped the ante.  
  
I managed to get a breath into my lungs and looked over to the professor, waiting for some signal from him. It was weird 'cause I'm not usually the type to wait for someone to give me instructions, but that cold fear was still keepin' me where I was. When he opened his eyes, I couldn't read him at first, which scared me worse than anything else-  
  
Scott:  
  
I could tell when Bobby came skidding in like he was seventeen again that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Part of me wanted to scream in that moment, wondering how we could take more. Physically, emotionally, mutation- wise, we had all given to the point of no return. I didn't want to admit it, but in my heart of hearts, I was steeling myself for word of Rogue's death. And God, it burned like acid. Without every trying, that girl had wormed her way into my heart. Not like Jean, by any means, but from the first time I laid eyes on her, Rogue had gotten to my protective instincts. All those walls she'd built to protect herself, not to mention the crap with Logan, broke my heart for her. She was my little sister, blood notwithstanding. And I don't mean in that playful, kidding around way, either. I'd kill to protect her. The only people that truly meant more to me are Jean and Charles. Together, they're my family. Wife, father, sister.  
  
Then there was Bobby with his news. For a minute, I thought I was going to vomit right there on the floor in the war room. My body felt cold, then hot, then numb. Rogue. I closed my eyes behind my visor, trying to talk myself out of leveling every installment of Magneto's I could find. Just myself and the Blackbird. Instruments of death and vengeance. Sanity reasserted itself a moment later and I opened my eyes to see Charles in deep concentration. I wanted to turn my head to gauge Logan's reaction, ready to stop him if he went crazy, but at the same time, I couldn't do it. If Rogue was in that box, I couldn't begrudge the man his grief. I knew what I would do if it were Jean. I knew what I'd do if it were Rogue. It was then I realized it had been a long time since I'd taken a breath. Maybe since Bobby interrupted the meeting. As I allowed myself a slow, deep breath, Charles opened his eyes and turned towards us-  
  
Charles:  
  
Despite the power of my gifts, when I'm deeply in concentration on a subject, I'm not necessarily keeping a 'finger' on the psionic pulse around me. Such was the case during the meeting in the war room. I 'heard' Robert a split second before he charged into the room, but it was too late to stop him. Part of me cringed inside at the anguish in his thoughts, but as always, I respected him enough to let him deliver his news instead of plucking it from his mind. The temptation was strong, though.  
  
A few seconds later, I wished that I'd broken my own rule and pulled the information from Robert before he had a chance to speak it out loud to the team. I scanned them peripherally, steeled against the backlash of fear and rage that emanated from each of them in varying factors. Scott's featured hardened and I knew there was a glint of merciless rage in his eyes behind the rose quartz. Logan had frozen in place, an almost bemused expression coloring his features as his mind struggled with might be. Just as quickly, though, I realized that the Wolverine snapped into place. I resisted an internal shudder at what these two men could do if their pain were unleashed on the world.  
  
Putting that thought aside, I did what needed to be done and sent my mind searching. The picture in Robert's mind was clear and I could see the wooden crate sitting in the delivery bay, its top pried open. An expensive casket-still closed--rested within, perused in confusion and concern by a group of older students and a few teachers. Once again, I steeled myself against what might be waiting for me and probed the contents of the box. Every part of my body that I could feel tightened at the site of the formerly pristine white satin lining stained with blood. The signs of a violent struggle were sickeningly obvious. My stomach turned in response. Killing in battle was one thing when unavoidable, but this-- I mentally and physically sucked in a slow breath of air. What I could 'see' in the coffin was torture, plain and simple. And the worst kind, as well. Life for my team was going to be extremely difficult over the next days and weeks.  
  
The War Room:  
  
A sickeningly palpable tension had settled on the room in the handful of heartbeats since Bobby's announcement. Hank and Storm looked at each other, then in trepidation at Scott and Logan. They knew that both men were on the edge, between their exhaustion and their respective feelings for Rogue. News of her death would be shattering. To everyone.  
  
The silence deepened as Professor Xavier's powers almost visibly took him from the room on his quest for answers. Seconds passed like cold syrup through an hourglass before he opened his eyes. The sad, hollow look in his eyes caused hearts to stop, but his words caused the blood to rush again.  
  
"It is Rogue." He paused, looking and sounding infinitely weary and heartbroken. "She is alive." 


End file.
